


On Your Left

by elopingsun



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post TWS, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elopingsun/pseuds/elopingsun





	

The second time Steve wakes up in the hospital it’s with a start. He looks around the empty room cautiously, unable to shake off the feeling someone had been watching him. 

He barely has time to register the man as he ducks around a corner down the hall. There had been something achingly familiar in the way he had moved, and in the color of his hair where it had peeked out beneath the knitted hat he’d been wearing. Steve isn't even sure he was real.

He doesn’t hear the monitor begin beeping angrily as he stands and yanks away the various wires connected to him. His head is pounding but he keeps moving, determined to push through haze. He’s got things to do, he can’t waste anymore time in bed. Who knows how long he’s even been in here. 

_Bless you Sam,_ he thinks as he pulls on the pair of jeans, folded neatly in the chair beside the hospital bed. He is tugging off his hospital gown and reaching for the sweatshirt when the flurry of doctors and nurses storm into the room. 

“What are you doing?! You need to get back in bed!” The doctor that Steve assumes is in charge demands while brandishing a clipboard in a manner he supposes should be vaguely threatening. 

He doesn’t even think to read the doctor’s name tag before shooting back, “I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave! You’ve only been here three days! You’ve suffered several serious injuries! You almost died! It’s a miracle you aren’t dead!!” 

It's almost comical, the way the staff are hovering around the edges of the room, eyeing him warily.

Steve bitterly wishes SHEILD had thought to move him to one of their facilities, as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head; then he wouldn't have to deal with this shit, these people know who he is but the don’t really understand him or his biology. 

The movement causes a sharp pain to shoot across his torso but he grits through it and shoulders past the medical staff, none of whom try to actually stop him. 

When he gets halfway down the hall the reality of the situation washes over him. There isn't a SHEILD anymore. He doesn’t have access to those kind of resources any longer. He silently thanks Sam again as he pulls a phone out of the jeans pocket. He hopes it’s a reasonable time of day as he presses dial and continues walking. 

“Steve! Hey man, I was going to swing by in a bit and visit.” 

The warmth in Sam's voice momentarily catches him off guard.

“Uhhh, I actually just walked out of the hospital and was kind of hoping you could maybe come pick me up if it isn’t too much trouble…they didn’t exactly discharge me and I don’t want to hang around long enough for them to get up the courage to try to herd me back inside…”

Sam huffs out a sign in response.

“Never mind Sam, I’ll call Nat, I feel terrible, I just keep asking you for things. What kind of way to start a friendship is that? Thanks for bringing the clothes by, and for the phone.” 

“Steve it’s no big deal, I was just tying up some loose ends over here at the VA. Be there in twenty minutes. There is a nice coffee shop down the block from the hospital, get me a latte and all will be forgiven.” 

Steve can’t help but crack a smile as he walks over to the cafe; and shit, that hurts too. He reaches up and feels his cheekbone where it is still tender and hopes that his face isn’t too much of a mess. The last thing he needs right now is to frighten the barista and have them call the cops or something. 

While he waits for Sam, Steve sips his coffee on the bench out front and tries to figure out the best way to proceed. He sends a couple texts to Natasha and desperately hopes she isn’t too busy to do him a few favors. He knows it will take a lot longer if he has to dig through the files himself. 

He lets his thoughts wander back to the man in the hospital. Steve had only seen him for a few seconds but it has to have been Bucky. Steve knows it would have been futile to try to catch up to him in that moment, but now, squinting against the brightness of the sunshine and desperately hoping the fuzzy feeling in his head clears away soon, the reality of just how little he has to go on settles over him. He doesn’t have a clue where to begin.

He’s relieved when his thoughts are interrupted by Sam pulling up to the curb and honking. They ride to Sam’s place in silence, it’s foreboding really, how closed off Sam seems to be. When he sounded so glad to hear from Steve on the phone. 

When they get to Sam’s after what feels like an eternity sitting in rush hour traffic, Sam ushers him inside and tells him to sit down on the sofa before he rounds on Steve. 

“Look man, we need to get a few things straight. One, you’re staying here until you’re actually healed all the way. No running off like you just did at the hospital. Two, you don't get to go off and try to find your crazy-ass brainwashed assassin friend alone once you’re better. I’m going too.” 

“Sam! Look, I appreciate the place to stay but I can’t ask you to go with me. You’ve got a life here!”

Steve isn’t sure he’s ever seen someone raise their eyebrows quite as impressively as Sam does in response. 

“You don’t get much of a say in it Steve. When I said I was tying things up with the VA that is what I meant. There is a really great woman who is going to take over my groups. I know what you’re going to do and you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

Steve can’t help but smile. He hasn’t met many people with anything even close to his level of stubbornness but he can recognize the same fire in Sam.

“Thanks Sam. I can’t tell you how glad I am I met you.” 

“You don’t have to, I think the universe brought us together because we both needed a little help to get to where we are supposed to be. Also, you can’t come running with me anymore if all you do it lap me.” 

"You gonna post all these rules on the fridge Sam? An old man like me is liable to forget if you keep adding to them!"

Sam groans in response but the next morning when Steve gets up to make coffee there is a note stuck to the fridge including Sam's rules and instructions for using the coffee maker to get it to brew just how Sam likes it.

It’s almost a week before he gets a text from Natasha telling him that she has the information together. He suspects she’s had it ready for longer but he has a feeling she and Sam conspired to wait until they felt he was really healed enough to give it over to him. 

It’s nice, he realizes, to have people care about him enough to do something like that, to really look out for his wellbeing because they want to, not out of some weird sense of obligation. He's been anxious to get started, but he's also been having a really good time with Sam, just hanging out, remembering how great it is to get to know someone, to build a new friendship. 

While Sam makes lists of supplies and sorts through old duffle bags and military issue backpacks for equipment and supplies, Steve makes phone calls and pulls strings. All of his ass-kissing and promises to make public appearances seem well worth it when Sam opens the box that arrives with a new set of wings in it a few days later. 

When Nat gives him the folder he doesn't ask what she’s holding back, he isn't sure that he wants to know. As he watches her walk off he can only hope he and Sam will see her again soon.

On the car ride back to Sam’s his fingers itch with anticipation, he can’t stop thumbing the corner of the file, but he doesn't open it, Natasha's warning ringing in his ears. In the end it's a good thing he waited until after they got back to read the file. He’d only made it through three pages before he’d thrown up. 

It takes him another two hours to make it the rest of the way through the contents of the folder. By the time he’s finished he’s destroyed the edge of the desk in Sam’s guest room from where he’d gripped it hard enough to splinter the wood. 

He doesn’t sleep. He can’t sleep. The pages keep flashing across his eyes. Steve stares at the ceiling all night focusing on the sound of Sam’s light snoring from the next room. He boxes up all of his feelings and packs them away neatly. 

He can’t afford to miscalculate or make a mistake out there with Sam. He won’t let Sam get hurt, he isn’t losing another friend, he’s bringing one home.


End file.
